Free Tails of the Apocalypse by David Adams, Nick Cole, Michael Bunker, David Bruns, E. E. Giorgi, Deirdre Gould, Jennifer Ellis, Stefan Bolz, Harlow C. Fallon, Hank Garner, Todd Barselow, Chris Pourteau Page A

the pedals. On the way home, she kept running into snarled intersections, forcing her to detour. Miles from the hospital, she backed into a pole because she was too short to see behind. Some part of the van caught fast to the pole. She got out with the dogs and walked south.
    The sun rose, slanting over the buildings, glinting on the dew on the cars. When she got to the hospital, she found the dogs scratching against the other side of the door to reception. She opened it and they rushed her, jumping up against her legs. The back room smelled like poop. They’d eaten all the food she’d left out and the water bowls were down to the last licks.
    She cleaned up the mess. Poured fresh water. Let out the little dogs who’d been cooped up all night. After, most went back to bed. Raina sat on the bench in the front room, Knife on her lap.
    “She was right,” Raina whispered. “I can’t take care of you all. If something had happened to me, they would have been trapped. Nothing to eat. Nothing to drink.”
    Knife looked up at her from the corners of his eyes.
    “I had to learn to take care of myself. That’s the only way now. For all of us. Do you understand?”
    He yawned, squeaking, and closed his eyes.
    She let them sleep a while longer. She tried to think of another way, but Officer Morgan had shown her the truth. No one was coming to save you. No matter what your dad said, there was no salvation except what you honed for yourself from whatever you had.
    The next night, she brought a full bag of kibbles down to the parking lot and poured it into multiple tubs in case any of the dogs came back later. Then she got her pack, brought the dogs outside, and headed east.
    The dogs ranged ahead. Raina slowed. Dragon bounded onward and the others raced after. One block away, then two. Raina stopped. The dogs kept running. All except for Knife, who turned his head, one black paw lifted from the street. He glanced at the others as they disappeared around a hedge, then strutted back to Raina and took his place by her side.
    She wanted to tell him to go, to be with the others, but she couldn’t make herself do it. She kneeled and scratched his ears.
    “I can’t take care of all of them,” she said. “But maybe we can take care of each other.”
    He lifted his nose to the wind. Raina did the same. When he moved down the street, she followed.

A Word from Edward W. Robertson
     
     

    Ed and Cricket.
     
    Growing up, my family had a golden retriever named Lady. She’s been dead for close to twenty years now, but my family still tells the occasional story about her. Like when we got a kitten who was so small she would curl up on Lady’s back to sleep. Or the time my dad went pheasant hunting in his friend’s asparagus field; my dad got one bird, his friend got one, and so did Lady—she’d found a hen out in the maze of asparagus gone to seed and done as her instincts suggested.
    But Lady was the only dog I had as a kid. After her, it was nothing but cats. As recently as my late twenties, I didn’t think too much of dogs. I had nothing against them, but I had no desire to own one. And I definitely didn’t like little yappers.
    Then I started dating someone whose mom had two dogs: a little orange terrier and a mutt—maybe a Chihuahua/miniature greyhound—named Vinnie. I thought the terrier was okay, but Vinnie was an ambassador to dog skeptics. Funny. Playful. Loyal. One time, when we came by the house for the first time in a few weeks, Vinnie threw back his head and howled when he saw me.
    Six years later, I own two dogs. Little ones. One’s a mutt from an LA shelter. The other’s a Chihuahua we got as a puppy from a family at the dog park. She bears a suspicious resemblance to Knife. Both my dogs are yappers, but they make up for it in other ways.
    In LA, sometimes it seems like there are more dogs than people. Most of my Breakers books are set in this area. When I thought about what the end would bring, I had no problem